Husky Harry
by insane songbird
Summary: Draco Malfoy has lately come in the possession of a Husky. What he doesn't know is that this green-eyed dog is no dog at all but a slightly confused teenage hero who on the flight from his enemy got stuck with a small animagical problem… and a Death Eater
1. Dungeons and Dogs

**Husky Harry**

Author: insane songbird – any questions? Feel free to ask in the reviews or which ever way you please… If I answer depends on if I want you to know that already.

Summary: Draco Malfoy has lately come in the possession of a Husky. What he doesn't know is that this green-eyed dog is no dog at all but a slightly confused teenage hero who on the flight from his enemy got stuck with a small animagical problem… and a new home at his master's.

Disclaimer: The characters and the universe where this story takes place are property of JKR. I only got some nice ideas how to torture the poor boys for a while…

Warnings: So far there is blood, violence and language… I will update this if anything else crosses my mind.

A/N: Hi, this is my first English fic. Please excuse tiny mistakes (I hope they're just tiny!) thus I'm no native English speaker… Though I think my English is quite good I would love everyone, who notices mistakes to point them out to me, so I can correct them. (But please don't flame me, I don't think I deserve it!) **If there is any native speaker out there who would like to beta this for me **(or even my other English stuff) **I would be very grateful** – if not I will just continue with this non beta-ed version. I think it's rather fun to read after all.

_Chapter One:_

_Dungeons and Dogs_

He needed to do this and he needed to do it quickly. His mind was reeling and somehow this didn't seem to comfort him at all.

In the last years of is life, there had been many things he needed and many things he had desperately wished to happen. But there had never been anything he had needed so desperately as this.

He knew he could do it. He knew he had to if he wanted to live on. It was about survival and only about this.

That was what made it even more difficult to focus. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, he thought it might just jump out and run for it's life without him. But it didn't. Thankfully it didn't.

The stone floor was cold and damp underneath him and in no way comforting for his situation. He hadn't seen daylight for a while and his body was protesting from the uncomfortable situation he was in, from the lack of fresh air and from the need for sun.

This was his only chance, he knew it. And he wanted to take it whatever the costs. Well, what could be worse then this…? So he didn't worry about the costs.

If he didn't do it now, if he didn't leave this instant it might be to late. His chance would be gone and his death would come soon. Too soon.

He took in the looks of his surroundings for what seemed to be the hundredth time: the greyish green of the slightly damp stone, the cold, old looking iron chains and cuffs that held him right in his place, the air smelling like it was centuries old and the bars...

This was what it was all about: the bars. They were think and heavy made of iron and he would bet they were as old as the dungeon itself. Rust coloured them in brown and red but despite all oxidation and time that had worn out the old bars they were as hard and unyielding as ever. Magic.

He hated those bars. The mere look of them made him furious. They stood so close that a cat wouldn't have fit through. This was his problem.

Even if he came loose from his chains there was no way to physically cross the line of bars in front of him.

But not now. Now there was a way. Now he could cross it, he could get past this barrier. He just needed to get loose from his chains.

Because the door was open. YES, the door to his cell was open. The iron bars forming it were still there but it was not locked. He was sure of that.

He had watched closely as the last of his captors had left and forgot to lock it because he was so joyous about the fact that the occupant of this dungeon would be killed soon.

Everyone would have thought that he would have been too shocked to see such a tiny detail. But when you're fearing for your life and when you're so desperate to flee, you will look for every small thing that might save your life.

He hadn't heard the lock rattling as it snapped back into the iron doorframe. He hadn't heard the metallic clinging of the big key as it slid in and out the lock. It was unlocked, he was sure.

This was the one chance he had been looking for and now it was exactly what he set all his hopes at.

He would manage to get free. He would manage to leave and he would manage to survive. He was sure of it. As sure as one can be on the edge of panic.

Many ideas of how to get loose of his bondages had crossed his mind in the past days but most of them were just too fantastic to work because of his lack of a wand. But there was some magic, that could be performed without a wand, wasn't there? Mighty wizards could cast spells just by some murmured words and even less skilled wizards were able to do wandless magic.

He had witnessed it more then once. He had done it before. But what kind of spell was he to perform to get free? Only a single one came to his mind and it was absolutely ridiculous to think about it. But if there is nothing to loose, there are no stupid ideas.

If it didn't work, he would be dead and it being a bad idea wouldn't matter anyway.

There were few Animagi in the world, but more then anyone knew. Most were born with this power, but some had learned. Some people close to him had learned and he had tried.

Yes, when he had first heard of it, he had tried. It hadn't worked though. But maybe he just weren't desperate enough back then. Maybe his intentions were just not good enough to set free enough power.

Now he was desperate. Now his intentions were more serious then ever before. He would try it. No. He would do it. He started murmuring some transfiguration charms he hoped would be helpful, combined them and concentrated on changing himself. He wanted to get smaller, small enough to get free of those chains. Small enough to slide out of them with his feet, paws, claws… whatever they might be then.

Time seemed to stretch into eternity and it didn't work. But it had to. He knew he could do it. Others had done it before. He started ripping at the chains and tossing around as far as his mobility allowed him to. His wrists hurt, as did his ankles. But he couldn't care less. It was not important if he was hurt when he died a cruel death or if he was as healthy as a baby.

After minutes or maybe hours his thoughts began to drift away. Fatigue wanted to take over but he couldn't let this happen. So he fought it with all the adrenaline he had left. Anger and frustration made him growl in the back of his throat and suddenly he was free.

At the first moment he thought his tired mind had played some sick trick on him. But when he hit the cold stone floor head first because he had simply slid out of the cold iron that had been holding him to the wall, he knew it was no dream.

His head hurt and he was kicking like mad as he fought of the chains that were still holding his legs. That was the moment when he realised, that this weren't the only legs he possessed. His arms had changed into legs, too. He was struck by lightning as he saw it.

He had fur. Dark grey fur to be exact. And he had paws with more fur but there it was white or light grey. Somehow he thought of himself as fluffy or cuddly, which seemed to be everything but fitting in his situation.

Some blood was sticking to the light hair on his wrist – or was it his ankle now? – and reminded him of the urgency of his situation. He must have ripped his wrist open, when struggling to get loose of the chains.

The chains… Finally he was free of them and it felt so good to be able to move like he wanted to. He struggled to stand up which was not that easy because he wasn't used to having four legs. But as soon as he realised the necessity of taking all of them in use for moving, it became as easy as if he had always had legs instead of arms.

He looked around his cell and felt the fur on his back stand on end as he felt the disgust that he had always felt for dungeons rush back into his body. It was an inhuman way of treating people, although there were some who he wouldn't be sorry for if they were down here and the number of those grew continually.

But normally he hated dungeons. It was always dark and mostly damp and cold down there. The climate and the depressing stone walls made people sick, not only physically but also sick at mind. He had seen it and therefore he disliked dungeons, mostly when he was at the wrong side of the bars. Which he was at the moment.

This thought made his eyes move to the iron door of his little cell and he remembered why he was so desperate to change his appearance right NOW!

It was unlocked. His heart leaped to new speed as his mind processed the fact of his now fast approaching freedom.

He sprinted towards the cell's door and… had a new problem: How to open it. Of course it was not locked, but it was still a door and he was no human anymore. If he was not mistaken, it would take another eternity to change back and he didn't have that

much time.

So he didn't take this time but tried it the animal way.

The door only had a handle on the outside which was no problem for a human for there was just enough space between the bars to stick a hand though. But it complicated the whole thing for an animal.

Thankfully he was at least large enough to reach it if he stood at his hind legs. So he tried. First he didn't manage to stand up quite well and started leaning against the bars to slide up and down at them while being two legged. It was more complicated then he thought and after some minutes as his shoulder started aching from the constant pressure against the bars he was near to giving up.

But he couldn't. He had gone so far. He had managed to become an Animagus, so why should he let a simple unlocked door stop him from escaping a promised death?

Well, it just wouldn't. That's what he decided and so he ignored the pain and prayed to every god - if he had ever believed it gods or not was not important then - and went on jumping up at the door and clapping his paw at the door handle while sliding down again.

It seemed to take forever and he refused to count the tries but suddenly, as he didn't even believe in it anymore. The handle gave way to the pressure he put on it and the bars slid away into the darkness of the corridor.

As he stepped over the threshold he felt live coming back to him and adrenaline shoot through his veins right into his muscles. He looked one last time back into his cell and growled deep in his throat at the sheer thought of his imprisonment.

Then he gave the door a shove with his shoulder and watched it fall shut. Now he was on the right side of the bars again and he loved the feeling of it.

Without thinking about it more then he could help it, he took of at high speed. He slid around the corners when he refused to lessen speed on the slippery floor and tried to avoid running into any walls or making more noise then needed.

He sprinted up a small winded staircase and stopped dead in his tracks as he heard something down the aisle next to his. It were voices, hushed by the much to small distance and the echo of steps on the stone floor.

But the shock did only last as long as his body needed to make his survival instinct take over. He almost flew up the flights on the other side with the only aim to bring as much space between him and the Death Eaters as even possible.

He knew it had to be Death Eaters. There were no other living people moving freely around this place and somehow he even doubted that those who didn't live could be free here.

He wasn't sure if it was only his wish or if he really felt the area grow warmer and the air getting less damp and heavy with every step that took him further away from the deep dungeons. He could only hope that he would soon come to the surface because it was unsure how long it would take the guards to notice his absence.

The flight of stairs brought him continually to higher ground and soon he saw a glint of daylight – or at least he hoped it was daylight – lightening the corridor in front of him.

Only minutes ago he had made a run for the source of light but the nearly meeting with those Death Eaters had made him more suspicious about his surroundings. He should have been suspicious from the very beginning, but hell, he had been so happy to be free. Well, he wasn't really free yet.

He was still in the fortress of his worst enemy – although he was quite sure that this very person had gone out for the day, at least he had heard something like that from a conversation of two guards earlier that day. He hoped that this particular dark wizard would not be back soon.

Hell, he hoped a lot that day.

Carefully he pressed himself into the shadows of the walls and moved slowly. He thought that his greyish dark fur should be a good camouflage.

He stuck his head around the next corner and saw that this aisle was only a short passageway toward a larger one. That one even possessed windows. He seemed to have left the centre of the castle or whatever it was and had reached the periphery which adjoined to the out doors.

With a little luck he had not only found the inner courtyard but the outer territory of the big old commodity. All he needed then was a door.

He sneaked through the pathway and took a glimpse at the bigger corridor. Thankfully it was as empty as the last one. Then he walked over to the next window and had to realise that he was to sort to reach it and take a good look outside but at least he only saw sky and no other walls as he took a step back and looked up.

Although he couldn't be sure of where the windows lead he decided to take the possibility of finding a way into freedom further down this corridor and started sneaking along the shadows under the windowsills.

The corridor went straight for several minutes with small aisles leading to it each now and then. Somehow this brought up an uneasy feeling in the back of his suspicious mind. He found himself being more paranoid with every step he took. The castle was too quiet for his taste.

Maybe most of the Death Eaters had gone along there master and the few left had not noticed him fleeing yet but maybe all of this was just a sick little game to torture him a little more before killing him this evening.

He stopped thinking about it as the corridor suddenly ended. There was a door in front of him and he tried to decide if he should risk trying to open it and call the attention of some Death Eater on the other side on his presence or if he should go back into the darkness of the centre of the manor.

Waiting for someone to open the door would be really stupid and he had no intention to go any closer toward the dungeons as he already was.

So he went to jumping up doors again.

This time he had the handle on his side of the door and the lot of practice he had collected before made it a quick business. The handle was pushed down and the door slid a little towards him. It was a hard thing to push his nose through the little slit that had opened to open the door but he finally did it.

He was so happy that the door hadn't been locked and his happiness even grew as he saw where he were.

Behind the door was the entrance hall or what he thought looked like one. Carefully he moved inside and the door slid closed behind him. He noticed, that it seemed to be some old hidden passageway because this side of the door was clad by a big painting.

The entrance hall was huge and a wide flight of stairs came down from the upper floor.

To his luck, most of the paintings in the hall were either empty or imposed by a heavy black cloth, so there was no one to see him there.

His only problem now were the huge gates that blocked the way outside. He was sure that he couldn't move them because they were too heavy and the handles were too high for him.

His hopes sank as he realised that he had went so far just to be stuck again.

It was unbearably frustrating. Now he had to wait and he would do it because there was no other option occurring to him. When he guessed right all the other entrances would be sealed or watched. This gates were probably locked. Maybe there were even guards outside. But who would think of trying to flee or to break in through the main entrance?

This was his joker. No one would because it was crazy. And it was even crazier to try it as an animal.

He started looking for a hiding place and found one at the corner next to the gates. There stood an antique couch with a lot of braids hanging down to the floor.

He silently slid under it and hid behind the braids in the dark.

It seemed to take hours and the high windows already showed the low reddish light of dusk as finally something happened.

He had already started to fall asleep from exhaustion as a loud thud was heard and the gate was opened with more energy then needed.

"Send him now!" The high-pitched voice was cold and somehow he was sure that the Dark Lord was not in the best of moods.

"Yes, my Lord." The other voice belonged to a woman with black hair and a cruel face. Bellatrix Lestrange lowered her head in a deep bow and apparated away.

"They will never answer anything else." The Dark Lord started to laugh with his freezing voice and moved towards the stairs.

"Leave the gate open for the rest of my Death Eaters. They will have a lot of fun tonight…" The laugh grew even more and the one producing it left for the upper floor.

The two hooded figures who had followed in now turned to each other and seemed to share a look. Then they went through the doors outside.

The gate was open and he had his chance right in front of him. He ignored the foul feeling that had taken settled in his stomach as he had listened to the short conversation and slid out of his hiding place. He silently sneaked towards the door and pressed himself to the ground as he looked out of it.

The two guards were standing about five feet in front of the gates at both sides and looked straight ahead down the street that went up to the manor.

He needed to leave as long as there were no other Death Eaters coming towards them.

He carefully moved through the doors and tiptoed towards the garden behind the back of one of the guards. The man didn't notice him and so he slid into the bushes that bordered the street.

He was keen on bringing as much distance between him and the fortress as possible but he moved slow and thoughtful so no one would notice him sneaking away from the fortress and the street.

He crept through the shadows of the undergoing sun and held his head low. He moved from tree to bush and from bush to stone so he wouldn't be without cover for more then a blink of the eye.

Finally he came to a forest and as he went deeper into it the fortress disappeared from view.

He took a deep breath and was glad to be free again. His life was save for now and he happily took of at high speed. He wanted to go home, wanted to see his friends again, wanted to sleep in a bed and feel warm for the first time since his capturing. And he needed to tell what he had seen and where he had been. No one knew where the dark fortress was yet. But he knew it now and when he was found, he could show the Aurors the way.

Sadly his enthusiasm lessened with every hour he spent walking without seeing a single house or street. He seemed to be somewhere in the nowhere and he hated it soon enough.

After what seemed like hours he had nearly given up hope to find any sign of civilisation. He stumbled over loose roots and low branches and cursed every plant that stood in his way. He was glad to have four legs or he would have fallen more then once since going into the woods.

He was tired and worn out from walking. He had been hungry, but somehow the hunger had gone with his fatigue and now he just ignored the feeling of emptiness in his stomach.

Suddenly he was awoken from his walking daze by a light that flickered through the trees and the sound of an engine.

A car. He had found a street, thank the gods. Adrenaline flooded his body and he ran as fast as he could. It were just a few meters to the street, less then he had thought, and so he was a little surprised to be on the asphalt of the traffic way within a few steps.

He looked up and saw a bold of light coming directly at him. The car. He was so surprised, that it took him a moment to realize his big mistake. He already turned to leave again but he was not fast enough.

He heard the engine roar and the breaks squeak as he was hit by something hard. He was flung through the air and hit the cold ground with a sickening crash.

There he laid still like a ruddy dog that had been hit by a car. He felt like he was going to die.

Harry Potter, everybody's hero, was dying as the ruddy dog he looked like somewhere in the nowhere…

A/N: Ouch! Ok, I said that I would torture them, didn't I? Yes, it is Harry, and he is a dog. One could guess that if one read the title, right?

Ok, this was the first chapter and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing (yeah, I know I'm a sadist).

I'm not sure if there will be many reviews (though hope dies last, right?) but I know one thing for sure: There will be a next chapter and I will love it.


	2. Blondes and Blood

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and thank you very much for all those who were eager to see how Harry will cope with the change in his senses now that he is a dog. I had it worked in already but I went over it again and emphasised it on some points. You see, I'm always willing to work with your ideas, you just have to tell me. So this is chapter two. Have fun reading, guys! (for details, disclaimer and the beginning see chapter one)

Thanks to SaKuRa-Mina for pointing out one mistake and offering to answer any questions concerning English Grammar. (By the way how do I correct an already posted chapter? Is that even possible?)

But **I'm still looking for a native speaking beta for this little Fic. **All you have to do is read through it, correct mistakes and tell me if it sucks before I post it…I am a nice person, easy to handle and house-trained (at least my German beta has yet to complain).

_Chapter Two:_

_Blondes and Blood_

Harry's vision was a blur. It was still dark and he laid in the street bleeding his soul out. The metallic stink of blood filled his nostrils mixed with the smell of burned rubber. It made his stomach churn and he felt like every bone in his body was broken at least twice so he didn't even think of moving.

He had heard the car drive away a moment ago after listening to the driver cursing about "bloody dogs" or so. The emissions of the car still hung around the now strangely silent street. He felt a warm and wet substance flowing in his right eye and as his fuzzy surroundings started looking red he knew it must be his own blood.

He was already used to the thought of dying because all his life death had been around him. But this way of leaving had never occurred to him because it was so… so normal. Well maybe being transfixed into a dog was not really normal but a car accident was. It was a normal way of death which even the Dursleys had chosen to tell him about his parents.

Each day people died of car crashes and dogs did, too. He would have smirked if he had been a human because he liked the thought of not dying by a dark curse.

It was quite ridiculous to think this thought while dying but Harry was glad to die the normal way.

The pain he felt all over his body lessened a little as his limbs started to become numb and his mind drifted off towards unconsciousness.

He was ready to feel his heart stop beating and he knew it wouldn't be long anymore. He closed his burning eyes and stopped thinking so it would be easier to let go. He didn't want to torture himself more then needed.

As he lay on the street like this he thought he heard steps. He realised that he could smell the person more intently as he had ever smelled anyone. Being an animal must be the reason for this change of perspective. The smell was hard to define over the odour of blood and sweat he himself poured into the air and all he could define was a musky note that told him it was a man he smelled. He didn't take the effort of opening his eyes because he thought his mind had tricked him until he felt a touch on his shoulder.

Startled by this sudden change he opened his eyes again. He blinked weakly but didn't manage to make his blurred vision clearer. He saw a faceless shape bent over him. The mans head was surrounded by nearly white hair. The view was strange because the blood that flowed in one of Harry's eyes made the picture partially red.

He couldn't see more then the silhouette of the person that had found him and he asked himself if he was dead and it was an angel looking down at him.

But as the touch of the man moved a little over Harry's body the pain it inflicted showed him that he was very well alive and hurt pretty badly at that.

He howled with pain and the involuntary movement hurt even more, so he winced and snapped at the man to stop the hurtful touches. It helped although Harry hadn't caught him with his fangs.

The touching stopped and the blond man looked at him for a long moment. Then he heard murmured words and Harry was lifted up without even being touched by the man.

With a flash the nightly street was gone.

Harry had to close his burning eyes as the room was lit by a fiery light. He was surely no longer on the outside but in some building. A part of him wanted to know where he was and whether he was going to live or die. But therefore he would have had to open his eyes again and he just couldn't bring up enough strength for making any action against his aching body's request.

Some parts of his body were already numb and the rest burned and hurt like he had been hit by the _Cruciatus_. He was tired and weary. It had cost all of his might to get free and he had put most of his powers in it.

Now he had none left for anything. It didn't seem important for him where or with whom he was. He just wanted the pain to have an end. Harry's body wanted him to rest and he couldn't refuse it anymore.

The pain he felt didn't make it easy to sleep or relax and he heard someone move around him and say something. His mind couldn't process it anymore. It was cruel how much he wanted to just drift away but was held where he was by the torture of his injuries.

Harry started whimpering and if he had been a human he had started crying. He wished to die so the despair of his situation could just be gone.

Then he felt someone at his side as the same smell he had noticed on the forest street hung around him again. A hand ghosted faintly over his side and another one touched his head. Harry's whimpers grew a little louder as he tried to move and pain shot through him over and over again. He felt near fainting. But he didn't. Why the hell couldn't he just faint and get over with dying?

The first hand left his body while the other one slid under his head. He had liked to protest but this was an impossible mission, so he just shrieked and slightly stiffened.

Then he felt some bitter smelling liquid flow into his mouth as someone poured it down his throat.

Then everything went black.

As he awoke he wasn't sure if he was still under the living. But his first move told him he was because if there were to be any gods he expected them to erase pain from heaven.

This was exactly what he felt. Pain. Although it was not as deadly as it had been when he had fainted. If he had fainted. Harry was not sure what had happened after the car hit him. Did there really come someone to save him?

Somehow he couldn't believe it. No one knew where he was. At least no one who would save him.

His curiosity made him open his eyes again though he had closed them the moment his awakening had pulled them open. His surroundings were lit by natural light coming through a window across the room. A room that smelled strongly like old wood, dust and a strange musky odour he could not place properly but was sure he had smelled it before. Harry was astounded by the way he could differ out the different scents of the room as his brain could make a clear difference between the faint air of blood still sticking to himself and a vanilla note that wafted about with the musk.

His eyes were quite the opposite of his nose, though. While he could smell everything with a certainty that made him quite proud of his animalist senses, his eyesight was rather poor. Did the effect his glasses made not work when transfigured into his Animagus form? Or was this just the revenge of mother nature for his sharp nose?

He could not be sure as he was not really an expert in neither Animagus studies nor animals in general. Sometimes being Hermione Granger would be a nice thing, he thought. No matter why his eyes were the way they were he had to concentrate hard to make out a picture of his surroundings.

The room was rather small, about the size of his bedroom at the Dursleys. A neatly made bed was set on one wall and a table with a chair at the opposed one. The wardrobe and cupboard were made of dark wood as was the floor. The place was nice but there were no personal things in this room. The walls were a slightly washed looking formerly blue tapestry and Harry had the picture of an old house in front of his inner eye. The smell would fit to that conclusion perfectly.

He wondered who might live here. One could have easily thought that this room was an empty guest room or something like it. But there was a half emptied water bottle sitting on the bedside table telling the opposite, as well as the musk and vanilla still filling his nostrils pleasantly.

He started shifting the position of his aching body and noticed that he didn't lie on the wooden floor but on a cot formed by a large grey comforter nestled on the floor.

He sat up very slowly and tried to get used to the throbbing in his side where he had been hit by the car. He was sure it wasn't the driver's house he was in. He had heard him leave. If it had been for this person he would be dead. Gladly he wasn't and he found one reason for it next to the head of his cot.

There stood a variety of mostly emptied vials and small bottles. So he had been found by a wizard. This explained how they had left the street so suddenly. Although he didn't know how to apparate without touching someone.

Then something else caught his interest. Next to the amount of potions were two bowls. One was filled with water and the other held something that resembled stew. Dog food.

This moment the realization that he was still an animal overwhelmed Harry. Although he had been thinking about the strange perspective he now had all the time he did not take the information to his brain very much. It hit him quite hard as he looked down his body to see a fur of different shades of grey that became nearly black to white on different parts of his body. His paws were clearly not those of a cat and his tail looked quite wolfish.

He traced the room with his eyes to find a mirror. There it was. Next to the door hung a very narrow mirror of about five feet height. Standing up was painful and walking hurt even more. But the curiosity got the better of him and the pain was nothing to compare with the night's torments.

As he came into view of the mirror he stopped dead in his tracks. Light green eyes stared back from the shining surface. There stood a slim dog with white paws and a grey body.

He was a Husky!

The fur became black on his back and white across his face with a grey forehead that wore a small pattern of darker grey over one eye. This was what his famous scar looked like when he was a dog? It didn't even draw a lot of attention to it.

Harry stood there staring at himself. He was a dog. A Husky to be correct.

He hadn't ever believed himself being a dog. Sirius had been a dog and being the same animal as someone he knew didn't seem to be an option. He was so different from Sirius, wasn't he?

Probably not.

He started musing over his own character while watching his own now lighter green eyes through the mirror. Had he something that was typical for a Husky?

Harry tried to remember everything he knew about this dogs. They were considered working dogs that drag sleighs a long distance though the polar ice. Had he been a human he had snickered as he thought of the parallels to himself. He always dragged the Wizarding World through the icy times Voldemort created.

If he didn't work like a dog for the victory of light he didn't know who would. He came to the conclusion that maybe it was quite fitting for him to become an animal that stood for had work, obedience to the cause, loyalty and somehow even exploitation.

He had felt exploited more then once in his life.

A deep growl of his stomach made him end his musings. It must have been at least twenty four hours since he got something to eat and the food he got in the dungeons couldn't be called healthy or even plenty.

Suddenly the bowl of dog food seemed to be really alluring and the meaty smell appealed to Harry even from across the room. Salvia flew into his mouth and he slowly limped back to his cot and tried to sit as comfortably as possible inside the range of the food. He ate most of it although it took him some time for his stomach had to adjust to eating more then a hand full of food at a time first.

He was stunned by how good it tasted and somehow he decided that his taste seemed to have chanced to the doglike state, too.

Harry also started to drink the water from the other bowl. It tasted somehow different from normal water but he drank on because he needed the refreshment very much. After a few sips he felt the stinging in his muscles ease a little bit and the aching in his side decreased to a light throbbing.

There was some potion in the water. He drank more of it eager to lessen the pain he felt and as it started working he lay down again to rest. The little he had done had drained more of his strength then he had thought.

The sound of a door falling shut and some heavy steps brought him back from his sleep. He heard the rustling of cloth that fell noisily to the floor. A little startled by the rude awakening he looked around the room to see a pair of dark blue jeans pass him and move over to the bed. Boots scuffled tiredly over the wooden floor.

What had only been a slight tinge of smell to the general odour of the room now came on strong and the smell Harry had been wondering about all day was everywhere all of a sudden. The vanilla was paired with the smell of fresh soil and the musk and sweat turned out everything else there was in the room. It was intoxicating somehow and Harry was dead sure he could recognise this smell everywhere.

His tired eyes started moving upwards over a black shirt to blond hair that seemed to be very familiar. A nagging feeling grew in the back of his head telling him something was terribly wrong with this guy.

Something was familiar about him. It took Harry a long moment until it suddenly hit him. As he realised who this nearly white head belonged to Harry was startled beyond belief and started growling deep in his throat.

The young man flopped quite unceremoniously onto the bed and lay there for a moment until he seemed to notice the hostile sound from the corner of his room.

He turned towards Harry so the boy, now being a dog, could see – although not really clear – the surprised face of Draco Malfoy. His sight might be poor but he would recognize that face everywhere even with one eye glued shut… and now he would recognize his smell no matter what.

"Hey you there." Malfoy's voice was quiet and he cracked a smile. "Nice that you're awake finally." He streaked his eyes with one hand and then sat up dangling his feet off the side of the bed.

Harry still growled at the sight of the boy who had arranged an attack at Hogwarts. They hadn't seen each other for months and the last time Harry had laid his eyes on that particular blond head that now was in front of him was as he chased him and Dumbledore's murderer off the Hogwarts grounds.

He had thought a lot of this night and he had known fairly quickly that the other boy didn't really have a choice in the things that happened. He was sure Draco would have never killed Dumbledore.

But still he had a very hostile feeling about him. Malfoy was a Death Eater and he was very close to everyone Harry counted as his worst enemies. It didn't help, that he was a bastard himself, either. Draco Malfoy was a brat and the most unfriendly student Harry had ever met. That Draco was here was a very bad sign and it could cost Harry's life.

"Well you don't seem to be in the best of moods, right?" Malfoy leaned a little forward and Harry got up to make some steps back.

"You know, I can understand that you're pissed. I mean you seemed to have had a car accident or something like that and that's not the best thing I could imagine as a great finish of the day." Malfoy looked Harry directly in the eye. He sounded quite tired but it seemed that he still wanted to take the effort of talking to Harry.

"But you shouldn't be so grumpy. I have done all I could to make you feel better and it seems that I did a good job." He stood up and opened the drawer of his bedside table to pull out a vial with a blue liquid.

"I'll make a deal with you, alright?", he proposed and stepped nearer to the cot Harry had been laying on. As the Animagus made another step into the corner Malfoy unbuttoned the vial and poured the potion into the water bowl. He filled it up with the bottle that stood on the night stand and then made two steps back.

"I don't force you to be nice to me and you don't force me to stop treating you, alright?" He sat back onto the bed and kicked off his shoes with a yawn and drank a sip of his own from the bottle, ignoring the glass on the night stand.

"If I were you, I'd drink this." He said with a little nod towards the freshly filled bowl. "It's just a healing potion." Harry eyed Malfoy and his potion suspiciously. He didn't trust the blond one bit.

"Well, do what you want. I'm going to sleep now. I can need it because I didn't get any sleep due to saving your life last night but there are some people who don't care if you are about to die as long as you do as ordered. So I couldn't rest today, too. I hope you at least appreciate my doings."

Harry didn't growl anymore but he watched carefully as Malfoy lay down on his bed without even taking of any of his clothing but only murmured a "G'night" and turned around to start breathing slowly as he fell asleep.

Why hadn't Malfoy handed him over? Of course it had been Voldemort he had meant by "some people". Was it possible, that the other boy just didn't recognise him?

It had to be. Well, Harry hadn't even recognised himself if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. But why had Malfoy saved him? Was he just an animal friend? Somehow this seemed a little unfitting for the boy Harry knew. But he had to admit that he didn't really know a lot about him at all.

Until about a year ago he hadn't thought that Malfoy would go to Myrtle to cry himself out, but he had. It was strange with him. When Harry was eleven and started to dislike Malfoy at their first day of school, he thought he knew everything about him.

But he still didn't after over six and a half years.

Soon Harry felt thirsty again as well as he sensed the pain creeping back into his body and considered drinking from the bowl. But what if it was poisoned this time? He reminded himself of the fact, that Malfoy didn't know who he was and that the young man hadn't taken so much effort to save him to kill him like that. It was ridiculous.

So he sneaked over to his water bowl and sniffed carefully. It smelled the same as the last one had.

He decided to take the risk and half an hour later the bowl was emptied and the pain was gone again.

Harry was up quite early the next morning after he had slept nearly the whole of the previous day.

Malfoy was still fast asleep. This was something Harry really appreciated. His injuries seemed to heal pretty well but he still was far away from fit for a fight or anything.

After walking around the room with a pretty nasty limp and checking if there was anything interesting he had not seen before which he soon abandoned due to rather find things he hadn't smelled before – there was nothing but the black Death Eater robes Malfoy had tossed on the ground the night before that held the disgusting mixture of sweat, dust and small patches of old blood which made him shiver – he sat down on his cot again. Malfoy was still lying on the bed with his clothes on. He hadn't cared to slip under the comforter and so he was curled to a ball on top of the former neatly made bed.

It was a strange picture because somehow Harry could not imagine Lucius Malfoy teaching his son that it was okay to just fall into bed with your cloths on. It seemed to be such a normal disgraceful behaviour. Something a Harry Potter would do.

He snickered in his mind at that thought. It was just such a typical teenager action. He had done it some times himself.

As the sun rose higher Harry felt hunger creep through his stomach which started protesting against it's actual state. He tried to ignore it but it seemed that his system had adjusted to the thought of not starving faster then he had thought and it didn't want to chance a thing at this.

The door had a doorknob and he would never get it open himself. So he sat down again and thought about waking the sleeping blonde boy.

Somehow he thought it would not be fair after the slightly unnerved speech he had heard in the evening about not getting enough sleep. So he just sat there and waited hoping that Malfoy wouldn't be to much of a long sleeper.

He wasn't. It didn't take him another hour to wake up. Harry had already given in to the fate of not getting any breakfast as he heard the young man stirring on his bed. A low and sleepy moan followed and Harry could watch Malfoy unfold himself from the ball he had been.

The blond stretched slowly and then just lay there for a moment. As it seemed that he brought his brain to work again he turned towards Harry. He grinned a little sleepy as he saw that the dog was already watching his every move.

"Morning you there." His voice was raspy and he swung his feet out of bed. Then he scratched his nose and finally got up.

He moved over to Harry with silent steps and tried to pet his head. Harry thought this was a bad idea and snatched at the offending limb but he didn't even touch it because Malfoys reactions despite his sleepiness were excellent and he withdrew his hand faster then Harry had given him credit for. Harry growled at that.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" He looked a little disappointed by Harry's attack. "Never heard that you don't bite the hand that feeds you? I didn't do you anything but good so don't act like you had any reason to be angry with me."

That was not entirely correct but Harry had to acknowledge that since he was a dog Malfoy had only been nice to him. How came that he was a better person when interacting with animals then with humans?

While Harry still considered not biting off Malfoy's hand, the other boy let him be and went through a small door at one side of the room and Harry heard water running. It had to be the bathroom then.

As Malfoy returned smelling of soap on top of that musky vanilla flavour he sported and changed his clothes into a blue sweater and jeans and tossed his crumpled clothes into the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. Then he stepped over to Harry again.

"So, are you willing to try getting along with me or do you want to make things harder until you are fit again?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at Harry who just stared back.

He had decided not to bite the other one again – yet – because it would not bring anything to him but Malfoy with a foul mood although he seemed to be quite patient with an aggressive dog. This startled Harry a little as he could not remember the boy having any patience or understanding with humans.

The young man crouched down in front of Harry and slowly stretched out his arm to pet Harry again who felt the same repulsion for the touch then he had the first time. His muscles tensed noticeably but he didn't move at all. It would be stupid and absolutely not helpful.

He didn't know why his reasoning made him do it but this time he let the other boy streak over the fur on his shoulder without complains which made Malfoy crack a tiny smile for a moment.

"That's what I call a good start."

A/N: This chapter was quieter and just a tiny bit shorter as the first one until I went over it again before posting and put so much extra things into it about the dog perspective that I actually prolonged it about more then one word page… We'll see if this will continue with the others I haven't redone yet (Yes, there are others… two, actually).


	3. Hopes and Homes

Hi, guys! As you can see I am back again and there is another chapter in my really big hand bag digs really deep in an enormous pink grandmothers bag she has stolen from Mrs. Longbottom.

Disclaimer: I'm not a genius and I hardly passed my Latinum test (But I passed!!!!!) Therefore it is really improbable, no, absolutely impossible, that I have created this gorgeous book called "Harry Potter" or that I could own it in any way.

Someone reminded me that dogs don't see colour and you know what? I know that and I actually thought about it but I dismissed the idea of it because I love Draco's Hair (it deserves a capital H) in colour even more then in black and white… and as the reviewer said himself: It's an Animagus, so who knows? I think if they can think mostly like humans they can at least see colours, if I want them to, or why not?

Now on to the chapter finally pulls it out and sneezes from all the dust on it…

Voila, there it is!

Beta: Falling Tenshi _huggles Peachy for doing such an amazing job_. While working through the beta-ed version I noticed that I am a devil while typing and it was really necessary to have someone read it again. Tanks again Tenshi!

_Chapter Three:_

_Hopes and Homes_

This situation was strange. Not that anything in Harry's live was even close to normal but even for his standards this was strange. He was sitting on the floor of some house in the middle of nowhere changed in a dog and in front of him sat the nastiest boy he ever knew petting him, for over half an hour, while eating sandwiches and just musing over god knows what. Whoever says this isn't strange had a really weird imagination. How he knew that he was in the middle of nowhere? Well, he had seen it. After managing to be civil with Malfoy – not the easiest task at hand - in the morning the other boy had taken him out for a walk . Harry had seen that the house was even older then he had thought from looking at the interior, it looked positively ancient to be exact. Its exteriors were about as unkempt as the Shrieking Shack and Harry wondered if there was some kind of spell on it because he could not really see the rotten door open as smoothly as it had done as Malfoy led their way out.

He also smelled the distinct odour of rotten wood, mouldy wet stone and dust very strongly about the plac. It had not smelled like dandelions and daisies inside but the air had been much fresher then if you stood right in front of the door… a bit paradox where Harry was concerned. This was no problem for him, but the surroundings were.

All around was some kind of swamp. It didn't look very inviting. There were sick looking trees every now and then and some misplaced stones distributed around the moor. The fog that clouded the ground in a dangerous way that didn't even think of leaving for the day. The scent of slimy water that had stood still far too long to allow any animal to survive in its greenish floods was hovering about and made Harry gag a bit.

They didn't stay out very long and Harry was glad for it because he could only trot along slowly with his side still hurting a little despite all the pain killers he had taken. He didn't want to know how he would feel without the pain killing potions.

When Malfoy first said he'd take him out Harry thought of escaping, but even before he left the house his physical condition told him to stick to the caring hands of the blond boy a bit longer, even if he hated the idea. But Malfoy seemed to be quite ok when handling dogs. Well at least better then with hippogriffs… the thought made Harry wish to be able to smirk again.

Even the last chance of leaving was killed by seeing the deadly surroundings of the house. It was the perfect shelter for criminals like Malfoy because there was nothing there. It was so inhospitable that there would never be some stray Muggle or wizard to step by accidentally and no one would think that there was enough massive ground around the area to build a house there, a young man and a dog even needed to watch where they were going. More then once Harry had found himself sinking immediately after carelessly setting a foot on the wrong place and although he retreated as fast as he could he soon had the fur on his paws covered in the slimy sticking mud up over his ankles. It was disgusting.

So here they thankfully were back in the house again, although Malfoy hadn't said a single word since they had made their way to leave for their little walk. It was strange because Harry had always experienced him to be a very talkative boy, not that what he said had ever been very nice but he never seemed to be the silent type. At first Harry hadn't seen any change in that because Malfoy even tried to talk reason into a dog.

Malfoy always talked even though Harry doubted that he ever shared anything important with any of his friends. But seeing him completely silent was something new.

It had to be around afternoon by now and the hero of the wizarding world started to wonder about the calm. Not only concerning the silence of his newest companion but also the calm in general.

Malfoy was a Death Eater. In these times the servants of the Dark Lord were as busy as their opponents and he had thought that Malfoy would do the same thing as all the others which also meant daily raids somewhere in and outside of the country but since the first comeback of the blond man nothing had happened. The black robes he had thrown away were still lying on the floor and didn't seem to expect being used soon although it had been nearly two days ago.

Instead Malfoy was sitting on the floor of his room in an empty house and ate lunch with a dog he had picked up on a street. Somehow Harry had a bad feeling about this. Was it supposed to be like this? It seemed so startling… normal. He doubted that and the change came sooner then he could have wished.

Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps in the entrance hall of the old house and the creaking of the wooden floor woke Harry's senses. Then he heard a deep voice calling out "Draco?" He knew this voice better then he wished to and the familiar picture of its owner formed in front of his inner eye.

A man with a big hooked nose, greasy black hair and a long black cloak.

Draco was already standing upright and heading for the door. He pulled it hurriedly open and answered with a loud voice. "Severus! Where the hell have you been?"

So it was exactly who he had expected. There hadn't been any doubts but still Harry had hoped to be wrong. It had been enough of a shock to meet Malfoy, especially that strange can-coincidences-like-this-really-happen-? way, but Snape made the nightmare perfect ,maybe a god wanted to kill him with a heart attack.

Adrenaline started flooding his body at the thought of who was downstairs. Snape had killed Dumbledore in front of Harry's eyes and he was sure he could never forgive the man for this crime and his betrayal to the one man who had always defended him to the wizarding community.

Malfoy was already out of the room but the door stood open and Harry could hear the two men talking outside as Snape was striding upstairs with heavy footsteps. "I told you that it would take a little longer, Draco. There was no need to worry about me, you know that." The typical drawl in the voice of the potions master was still there but it was a lot friendlier then when he had talked to his students. This did not mean that he sounded nice at all but just not as venomous as usual.

"Who said I have been worried? I just thought that 'a little longer' did not take over 36 hours. It started to get boring sitting around here without anything to do then staring at the god damn fog outside." The young man's boredom was underlined by the monotony of his voice.

"Well, Draco, one very important lesson in life is learning to wait," Snape jeered.

"Oh please." Harry had the feeling that Malfoy was not at all pleased by the teacher's arguments. "As if I had not learned how to wait when I spent about one fucking year fixing this damn cabinet and taking every free minute to sit in this bloody room thinking of how I can make this shit work, Severus."

"Language, boy. Don't talk like you are some lazar who lived in the streets for a little too long."

Harry was feeling sick about the conversation he just overheard. He remembered to good how he himself had tried to find out what Malfoy was doing in the last year they had spent at school and how it all had ended as the other boy had managed to fix the cabinet he was just talking about. It had been the worst night of his life and that meant something.

"Severus, we are the bad guys - if what the world thinks about us matters just a little bit - and I'm still not allowed to swear? This sucks." With this someone started to move and Harry was shaken out of his stupor as he heard the movements growing louder. Someone was moving toward the open door.

"That's life, Draco. Live with it or die. If I were you I'd prefer the first one."

"Yeah, yeah." Now Malfoy came into sight as he stepped through the door, Snape on his heels.

The former professor looked exactly the same as Harry remembered. With his greasy black hair and the all black robes and cloak he resembled a bat better then any human being possibly could.

But what Harry had not yet known about his former professor was his smell. Now he knew why Sirius had despised Snape so dearly. It was as though all the potions the man had ever brewed had soaked themselves into his system and mixed up with a peppery note that underlined everything. It was such a strong mixture with all the potions ingredients – and if there was something to say about potions ingredients it's that they mostly smell ghastly – that Harry thought about how long he could hold his breath before fainting and whether Snape leave before that time was up.

All the hatred Harry felt towards this traitor was expressed by an angry growl that was formed deep down in his throat and made his whole body shake slightly as the hair on his back and tail stood up uneasily.

Snape must have heard it and turned towards the growl and the dog that once was his student and sneered at the sight of it before one of his black eyebrows was raised sceptically.

"I thought this poor animal had died while we were on our mission. I still can't see why you brought it here." He looked displeased at Malfoy who just sneered back. "If I had been with you, this ruddy thing would not have ended up in here."

"You think you could have forbidden me anything?" Malfoy stood up to his full height and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "This was no mission, so you wouldn't have been in command anyway. This is a private matter, you can not to forbid me having a dog, Severus."

The potions master managed a snide grin and just nodded. "Well, at least you seem to have advanced your healing abilities. I had expected it to die… everything's not lost with you after all, boy."

"Well, that's closest to a compliment I can get from you in this matter, but know that I only used potions to save my newest friend here, No spells at all. It seems that you are contagious when one lives a while with you." The blond man grinned mockingly.

"And it could only do you well, Draco." Finally Snape turned back into the direction of the door but looked once more at Harry before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Harry growled again as the black eyes lay on him and his uneasiness did not leave when the former professor was gone, but at least he could breath again.

Only a low chuckle from the other person in the room made the tension in his body lessen. By now Harry doubted any harm from Malfoy as long as his new cover didn't get blown. But why did he laugh? Malfoy never laughed. At least not in this amused way. Normally he only displayed a mean cold laugh of snobbishness. It was strange, again.

Harry turned his head to look at him and saw that the blond had walked over to him. He watched Malfoy flop the ground next to him, this seemed to be some new hobby of his. The young man just shook his head a little and began petting Harry's head.

"You seem to have a nose for the bad guys, right?"

Sadly he didn't just have a nose for them but also some kind of weird magnetism towards getting in trouble with exactly those people.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the room doing nothing in particular and Harry now knew why Malfoy had said it would be boring. Now that he was awake more then a few minutes in a row he could watch the dust bunnies grow and that would be the adventure of the day.

At least until a sharp knock made them both look at the door around dinner time. Malfoy had been sitting on the window sill and did not answer but the door opened nonetheless. Had Harry not already identified who it was by the knocking before the door opened and Snape swept into the room he would have then, not from his looks but rather from the offence Harry's sense of smell had to endure.

"Draco, I expect you to come down for dinner in half an hour," ordered the former potions master with a stern look upon the young man and Harry was dead sure there was no way in hell Malfoy could refuse.

"Can I bring the dog?" answered the blond with an air of neglect.

"As long as it stays away from the table and the food." Harry was slightly stunned that he did not pick up a fight over this topic.

"We'll be there."

And so they were although Harry was tempted to strain Snape's nerves he decided it would not be a good move considering the fact that he wanted Malfoy to like him. Even thinking about that made him want to laugh. He actually wanted Malfoy to like him. He would have called everyone a fool who had suggested that just a few days ago.

The food offered smelled rather good and Harry found himself wondering if Snape could really cook. Well he was good in potions after all so he could follow recipes. Was it the same as cooking? Harry himself was a rather decent cook (out of necessity at the Dursleys) but his potions skills were popularly awful. Although he had managed to improve thanks to the Half Blood Prince…

That had been a bad thought. It made him want to jump the bat of a man sitting at the old small table in font of him as he remembered his mocking tone the last time they had faced each other in the grounds of Hogwarts and the loathing and hatred he had seen in those black eyes.

It was by pure will that he did not bite Malfoy's hand right off as he put down a bowl of food in front of Harry. It was not the same as he and Snape were eating but it still made Harry's stomach growl approvingly. At least he didn't have to eat anything Snape had cooked.

Harry watched closely as the two men ate in silence. None of them said a word until they were done and as Draco had cleared the dishes with a flick of his wand Snape finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Join me for a game of chess if you don't mind", he said as pleasantly as Harry thought Snape's voice could get. It was actually quite scary.

Malfoy just nodded and Snape conjured a chess board out of nowhere onto the table, an admittedly handy spell. Snape played black – of course – so Malfoy had the first move. Harry had never thought them the chess playing kind of people. Snape because there was just not enough dark arts and brewing in it and Malfoy because he could actually loose and it was nothing you cheated in easily.

"Have you been up in your room all the time since coming back?" asked Snape nonchalantly after the third move.

"I had to take care of my dog," answered Malfoy while contemplating his next move. Harry trotted over to him as though called into the scene by their words although he only wanted to see them play and he had not had a good look at the board from the distance he had kept. He sat back at Malfoy's side as far away from Snape as possible and immediately had a hand on his back stroking his fur lightly.

"It looks to have healed reasonably well. You could have taken it outside," Snape said while looking Harry up and down which made Harry's fur stand on end.

"I did but he started limping pretty badly after just a few steps… I don't think he likes you at all." Malfoy chuckled a bit petting down Harry's standing hair and Harry gave him a disapproving look although he didn't think it made much of an impression in his dog form.

"I could use your help with some potions in the next few days if you don't mind." Snape said that with his eyes on Draco rather then the chess board. Harry knew what he was doing, Snape never needed help with a potion and he didn't seem to really care too much for chess either, all he wanted to do was draw Malfoy from his isolation. It was obvious he did not approve of Malfoy's tendency to solitude and wanted to give him something to do before the boy died of boredom and loneliness.

Harry knew what Snape was doing but not really why. Snape had sworn Narcissa Malfoy to take care of her son, that much he knew. But was this part of the vow? Harry had no idea.

But Snape was willing to have an unqualified student help him with his potions, so something must be behind this. He was coping with an animal at dinner… Harry was curious.

Malfoy seemed to know too. The blond man had the slightest shimmer of a smirk on his face while his eyes never left the chess figures in front of him. "Sure, Severus."

The game was not the greatest Harry had ever seen but not too bad either. He watched every move as the conversation slipped into nothingness and Harry's own thoughts took over.

Eventually the game was over and Snape retired to his own rooms though Harry had no idea where they were as he and Malfoy just went up the stairs into the very room Harry had first seen of the house.

He had not seen too much of this building's interior yet but it seemed to be a good hide out. And one thing was sure to Harry, he needed to disappear for a while or Voldemort would not wait again to kill him. But even though he doubted that anybody would expect him to wind up as Malfoys newest pet, this kind of cover was way to risky to keep up for too long.

But he couldn't change anything about that, at least as long as he didn't manage to transform back into a human. In that moment Harry realised, that he was stuck. He couldn't leave without retransforming but at the same time he couldn't dare trying to retransform while around Death Eaters. A dead end situation.

It was so frustrating to think about it that he started to growl again and snapped for Malfoys hand.

"Ouch!" He got him this time and a small trickle of blood ran down the pale hand of the Death Eater. "Fine. If you don't want attention, I can leave you alone." Malfoy got up and poured some water over his bleeding hand, letting it all spill over the floor. It didn't seem to hurt really much but the blond man looked very disappointed by the aggressive answers to his petting.

Harry felt like he just spoiled his biggest chance. Yes, he thought of his former rival as the one chance he got to escape this chaos alive and in one piece. If he made up with Malfoy, he might get the opportunity to leave someday with him and then escape.

He instantly felt bad for biting him. Malfoy might be a prat but he had only been nice to him since he found him… and he saved Harry's live after all.

With that thought he got up and walked unsteadily over to Malfoy, who was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. He placed his head on the edge of the mattress and looked at him ruefully.

The other man must have noticed this because he looked at him sceptically for a moment before returning to his former staring. But his hand wandered over the edge to stroke again through the grey fur Harry now possessed. He didn't say a word but the boy-who-lived-to-turn-into-a-dog was pretty sure he had been forgiven for his mistake.

Although it was not too late in the evening – Harry guessed it was no later then nine o'clock - both boys had soon started dozing.

Suddenly Harry was forced to awake as the hand on his head tensed and he heard he heard someone inhaling sharply.

Looking up with sleepy eyes he saw that it was Malfoy staring displeased on his left forearm. He had pulled away the sleeve and his arm displayed the Dark Mark in all its ugly might flickering while the Dark Lord called his servants. Although Harry's sight was rather poor he could make out the ghastly black lines with no problem at all.

"Fuck!" Malfoy said what Harry thought.

Harry had learned pretty early that nothing the Dark Lord would do could mean anything good. Although he had been wondering why Malfoy was not expected to do any work for his master in the last days he would have preferred it to stay like that forever. Whatever the Dark Lord wanted the Death Eaters to do would probably result in another ugly episode of this war.

Malfoy swore under his breath and gave Harry a last pet before he jumped up and collected his boots, the black robe and the mask he had scattered around the room.

"Sorry boy, but I need to go." His face was grim and Harry had the feeling that Malfoy himself had the same suspicions he had when it came to the reason of this call.

Harry watched as the blond man threw on his Death Eater robes and soon Draco Malfoy disappeared under the nameless façade of a servant of Lord Voldemort.

Harry shuddered at that look and growled again. At that he heard Malfoy laughing dryly over the behaviour of his newest pet and the next second he disapparated.

A/N: Done. That's the end of Chap 3. I actually had a different ending but I put an extra scene in between (the evening with Snape) and so I cut it off a bit earlier, so I will use the rest for the next chapter which I will write a new chapter for and push chapter four back to make it chapter 5. Yes, the fic will get longer! Just a bit.


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